


Beyond the Sunset Sea

by Farbautidottir



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, House Stark, Marvel Universe, Post - Game of Thrones (TV), Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22037821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farbautidottir/pseuds/Farbautidottir
Summary: Arya Stark set off to cross the Sunset Sea months ago, but a terrible storm brings her to a land more foreign than she could ever imagine: modern day New York City. When Claire Temple is the nurse who treats her, she quickly suspects there's more to this Stark girl and contacts her friend Matt Murdock to get involved. Post-GoT finale. Post-Avengers Endgame.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

“Storm ahead, and not a nice one, captain.” Ridnell reported, his voice trembling.

“How far out?” Arya asked the crew’s skinchanger.

He reentered his seabird, his eyes going white for a moment.

“Tonight, captain. We will reach it tonight.”

“Can we bypass it?” Arya asked.

Ridnell shook his head, “Too large, captain. We’re already on its edge with our current course.”

“Very well, steady on and we’ll have to ride it out.” Arya said confidently. She called over her first mate and told him to prepare the ship for the worst. He began to bark orders to the crew and within an hour the ship deck was transformed from its usual state to something much barer.

Arya knew the journey had been too mild, too easy. Something was bound to happen after such strong winds at their back and more cloudless skies than grey ones. They were weeks beyond the known world, having passed the far islands of Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys twenty sunsets ago. The compass still read west, though its pull seemed to be less reliable each day they ventured deeper into the Sunset Sea. As if they approached some shift in the world’s balance, some magic of sorts. Something entirely unknown.

Arya knew she should be afraid as her first mate was every time he glanced at the compass, but she was exhilarated by the prospect of something so unknown. Out here, where sparkling waters stretched to every horizon surrounding them, everything was untouched and new. They would all die as the first to this part of the world, the first to discover it. Compared to death by starvation or cold, by blade or arrow, or worse yet, to die and be reborn a wight—no this would be the preferred way to die. Out here where the world was open to anything and anyone. Arya saw no reason to be afraid of that.

They sailed on and the blue sky grew orange, then pink, finally settling into a dull grey hue until the winds began to pick up and the first drops of rain fell. The light was entirely gone, shrouded in a thick cloud, swirling about them. It entranced Arya at first, a swirling cloud flinging out water from the sea. It was unlike anything she had seen. Then suddenly it became more, taking form, touching down on the water. Shouts arose from her crew. The gales caught one of their small sails that had not been lowered yet, thrusting the ship wayward. Arya slammed into the railing, the wood painful on her hip. A bruise would be present in the morning, she knew, if she made it through to the morning.

She began to bark out orders, urge on the crew to continue their work in maintaining the ship’s integrity. The squall worsened, churning the waves until they crashed overboard. The first few were mild enough, but then it became all too much, and the first mate ordered her below.

“I will not abandon my crew!” she screamed through the storm keeping the wheel steady with some effort.

“You must and you will!” he bellowed back, running off to help a sailor who had flung over the railing in the latest wave.

Arya longed for Yara Greyjoy’s expertise, and not for the first time on this journey. She would know what to do to survive this. Unfortunately, she was in the Iron Islands and Arya alone would have to captain her crew through the storm. She steeled herself and surveyed the deck and surroundings. Ridnell thankfully was nowhere in sight, long since gone below with his seabird. She pieced together what needed to be done to bail out the flooded deck and screamed out orders to her shipmates. They obeyed in hurried actions, but it was not enough. The storm was more than their ship could take.

Arya braced herself as another wave crashed over them. When it receded, the noises were quieter and she glanced out with concern, finding half her crew swept away. Panic overtook the remainder, and as she looked ahead, she understood why.

The sea formed a whirling cyclone downwards into its very depths, a whirlpool of sorts, but more massive than she imagined possible. Desperately Arya yanked hard on the wheel, guiding the ship away from the certain doom. It was too late though, the current pulling them in more rapidly than she could steer away. Several men dove overboard in an attempt to avoid the impending destruction of the ship. Arya saw no purpose in this. Better and quicker to die in an unbelievable whirlpool than floating at sea until you drowned or became too dehydrated to go on.

She pulled out the compass again, as holding onto the wheel became useless. Its arrow spun around furiously enough that she shoved the instrument back in her pocket. The ship circled so the aft dipped into the whirlpool first. There was no time to make any speeches to her remaining crew. Instead, as the ship began to descend in a rushing clockwise rotation, Arya closed her eyes and murmured a farewell to her living siblings, Jon included. A deafening crack of wood sounded as the hull shattered, and Arya opened her eyes to find scared faces then surging white water and finally darkness.

As the broken ship slipped beneath the sea, she murmured with peaceful resignation, “ _Valar morghulis_.”

**/\/\/\/\**

Claire Temple had seen many things in her time as a nurse in New York City’s public hospital system, but none of them compared to what she had seen in her off time. She had been one of the lucky ones when Thanos snapped his fingers the first time. She had been blipped. Lost five years of time but hadn’t had to suffer like those who remained. She hadn’t had to live through that depression, that void. It was a relief, to be honest, after everything she had dealt with concerning The Hand. And according to Matt Murdock, someone had taken on the members of The Hand who weren’t in the Blip. Had served them a form of justice that solicited no jury. She assumed it was an Avenger, not the Iron Fist or Daredevil since Matt told her about it, but who knew these days. She certainly hadn’t asked Matt for details. The less she knew, the safer for her. She might have asked Luke if he did it, but he too had been blipped.

Life had been mostly normal since she, along with half of the Earth’s population, had been restored to existence, so she was not entirely expecting the enigma that lay unmoving on the gurney she met at the ambulance with the other ER team members at Metro-General Hospital that Thursday morning.

“Female, Caucasian, late teens or early twenties. No ID. Stable condition with fluids, just normal near-drowning conditions and mild hypothermia. Major bruising on her hip but no lacerations. Some old timer in Red Hook found her washed up on the beach during his morning walk with the metal detector.” the EMT explained as they wheeled the patient into an emergency room.

After their bed to bed transfer, the EMT grabbed something that clanked metallically and showed it to Claire, “The beach comber noticed our Jane Doe because of these.”

Claire’s eyes widened at the elaborately crafted dagger and skinny sword, if it could even be called a sword.

“Those are some accessories.” she noted dryly.

“She was wearing this.” another EMT continued, showing Claire what looked like a leather breastplate. “Maybe some sort of cosplay or Renfaire?”

Claire gave the EMTs a nod, “Thanks.”

The EMT team left with their gurney once the patient had been fully transferred to the hospital’s monitors and IV drip. Claire looked at the patient who was now dressed in a hospital gown, her damp Renaissance period garb stored in a hospital-issued plastic baggy except for the breastplate, which hadn’t fit. The weapons had been confiscated and moved to Metro-General’s weapons closet, which was fairly full year-round despite the police cleaning it out weekly or more, depending on the need for evidence.

The girl had a long face, short brown hair, and a worried expression despite being unconscious. Claire looked over the paperwork the EMTs left with her and glanced at the heart rate monitor. It started to spike mildly. The patient was waking up.

“Where am I? What happened?” the patient exclaimed. Her voice was rough, presumably from the salt water scratching her esophagus, but even so her accent was notable. Something European, as if English was not her first language, despite that she spoke it upon waking.

Claire startled at the patient’s surge of energy, recovering to say, “New York. You were found on the beach this morning.”

“The beach? I’m on land?”

“Yes, you’re in New York City in a hospital.” Claire explained.

“A what?” the patient asked, furrowing her brow.

Her heart monitor was racing now, beeps loud and frequent. She looked all around in horror.

“What is this witchcraft? What’s going on?” the patient exclaimed. The monitor beeped faster, and the patient covered her ears with her hands and squeezed shut her eyes. “What _is that_?!”

“It’s a heart monitor. It’s meant to help you.” Claire said, then put a hand on the patient’s wrist and said softly, “Listen, you’re all right. You’re safe.”

The patient calmed some, the beeps slowing as proof. She opened her eyes again and Claire could tell she was processing her surroundings as if she had never seen electricity before but didn’t want to show her ignorance. Probable options ticked off in Claire’s mind… human trafficking, refugee. The girl’s English was accented after all.

“What happened to my crew? My ship?” the patient asked, and Claire’s theories went out the window. Maybe she was the one trafficking the others.

“I don’t know. They only found you on the beach. They may have washed up elsewhere. Where were you headed? What happened?” Claire asked.

“We were headed West, into the unknown. There was a maelstrom, and a whirlpool swallowed us. That’s all I remember.” The patient explained, sitting up now. Her eyes widened as she could see out beyond her immediate bed. “What in the godswood is this place?!”

“It’s a hospital. The ER.” Claire said patiently. Confused ER patients were standard fare.

“What is a hospital?”

“What?” Claire furrowed her brow.

“A hospital – isn’t that what you called it?” the patient said.

“Yes, a hospital. It’s a place where you heal people.” She explained. Perplexed, she asked, “Where are you from? What is your name?”

“So, are you a maester? You’re awfully young—and awfully female. How interesting your kingdom would allow such things!” the patient continued.

“What is your name?” Claire asked again, mentally readying herself to call in a transfer to Psychiatric.

“Arya Stark. Do you even know of the Stark family here?” Arya furrowed her brow.

Claire let out a breath. Tony Stark’s public vigil had only been a month ago.

“I know the Stark family.” Claire said.

The girl nodded knowingly, and Claire wondered… could this girl actually be related to _the_ Tony Stark somehow? The rumors were he had a daughter, but no one had seen photos of her. Claire always assumed she was born during the Blip, and would be no more than five years old, but she had been wrong about many things before. And she had witnessed many things before that had been and still remained unexplainable.

“Where are you from?” Claire asked.

“The Northern Kingdom in Westeros.” Arya explained. “Listen, I need to find my crew. You said we’re where again?”

“New York City,”

“I’ve never heard of Old York City. Is it on your continent?” Arya frowned.

“No, York is in England, across the ocean.” Claire explained.

“I am from across the ocean. There is no England there. Unless... what ocean do you mean?”

“I think you may be confused. I am going to check you for concussion.” Claire pulled out her penlight to check the patient’s pupil dilation. A sense of déjà vu washed over her as she wondered how the paramedics missed this. “Miss Stark, are you blind?”

“Call me Captain Stark, please. And no, not anymore.” She said and moved to swing her legs over the bedside opposite Claire. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find my crew.”

“Wait, you can’t—” Claire tried, but Arya was up and the IV ripping out of her hand. She rushed around to stop the bleeding and guide the patient back to the bed, which quickly proved to be a mistake. Arya was swift and deft, taking Claire down in a single blow. She grabbed her bag of clothes and breastplate then ran from the room before Claire could even yell for help.

When Claire found her footing, she hurried directly for the weapons closet. The guards were both on the ground, unconscious, the door ajar. She opened it slowly, but no one was inside. The black metal of guns gleamed off the fluorescent lighting overhead and Claire saw the dagger and sword were gone.

“Damnit!” she muttered, then knelt to check on the guards. Another nurse had arrived by then, along with the police, and she gave her statement briefly and explained what the girl looked like. As an officer called in the APB on his radio while the others ran outside to try and catch this Arya Stark, Claire slipped away to a far hallway that was closed for asbestos containment. It was her sanctuary at the hospital.

The phone rang only twice before Matt answered in a gentle, concerned voice, “What is it?”

“Something weird just happened. I need you to find someone before she hurts anyone. I don’t think the cops stand a chance.” Claire said.

“Are you hurt?” Matt asked.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just worried what she might do. She seems delusional.” Claire hesitated, not wanting to bring this up after everything he’d endured. But the pupils had been telling, something wasn’t right about this girl. “Matt, I think she might be one of Stick’s.”

“Stick’s or The Hand’s?” Matt asked.

Claire flinched at the mention of the organization.

“I don’t know. She knew how to fight. Her pupils didn’t dilate, but she said she isn’t blind anymore. So, stroke or brain tumor, right? Maybe. She seemed too physically capable for that, even if the other symptoms presented.” Claire said.

“Did she give any indication where she might go?” Matt asked. His voice was tight, the way he spoke when his mind shifted from Matt Murdock to Daredevil.

“They found her on the beach at Red Hook. She told me she was a captain and kept asking about her crew. Said there was a massive storm. She assumed she crashed, but…”

“But the weather was clear all night. Okay, well, I’m on it.” he assured Claire. “What’s her name?”

“Arya Stark. Acted like she’s from _the_ Stark family.”

“As in Tony Stark?”

“Yeah…” Claire said. “Oh, and she’s armed with a fancy dagger and tiny sword.”

“Tiny sword? Anything else?” Matt chuckled.

“Leather breastplate. She’s short, brunette—not that you need to know that.”

“Brunettes blend in easier in crowds and draw less reaction from others. Any info helps, Claire.” Matt said.

“Right, well, short, brunette, long face, boyish. Fast runner and she seemed to just disappear after she hit me.” Claire listed off. “Oh, and Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s scared.”

“Thanks.” he said and promptly hung up.

Claire tried to steady her breathing as she slipped her phone back in her scrubs’ pocket. Normally she’d write this Arya Stark off as total Psych Ward material, but something else was going on. She could feel it.


	2. Chapter 2

Noise flooded Arya’s senses. She’d navigated cities before without issue, but this was different. This was entirely new. _New York._ She rolled the name in her mind. So simple, like a name from Westeros, yet so foreign. Like the colors—so bright and flashing, even in the daytime. Everything screaming for attention. Horseless metal carriages blaring horns and growling like beasts from somewhere within. The spiraling towers of glass and metal soaring above the stonework homes beneath. It was like nothing she’d seen.

But beyond the time it took her to change back into her clothes, she couldn’t stop, despite her desire to explore. She needed to find the beach and check for survivors or anything from the ship.

Her stomach gave a painful rumble and she resigned herself to pause a moment to really take in her surroundings in order to find food. She had no money—not that it would likely be of any use here—so she would need to steal.

The streets were littered with people. It made Flea Bottom look downright vacant. But like all cities, there were food stalls along the pavement. Vibrant fruits and vegetables just sitting there waiting to be taken and consumed. While she wouldn’t mind a chicken at the moment, this would have to do.

She readied her pocket, gave another glance for the stall merchant, listened for anyone behind her, and slipped three apples from the pile into her possession. She continued at the same pace to not call attention to herself. No one stopped her. Many people seemed to notice her though.

She quickened her pace until she reached an alley to duck into. No one followed her in, but she waited to be sure before pulling out an apple. Once she devoured it, tossing the core to the ground, she felt restored enough to venture back out and ask someone how to get to the beach.

This proved much harder than she’d hoped. She was used to people simply ignoring her, but here they all stared. The few people she’d asked for directions merely averted their eyes and quickly hurried away.

Finally, she sighed loudly and exclaimed, “I just want to get to the beach!”

“Which beach?” a male voice asked.

She spun to find a blind man staring at her through dark round glasses. He wore a smirk across his entire face.

“I don’t know.”

“Ah, well, that’s a little difficult then, seeing as we’re on an island,” the man said.

He seemed about five years older than Jon and equally weary. She wondered if they had seen war here, too. It was likely, though no one appeared to carry swords.

 _My sword!_ She realized with a smile. People were looking at her funny because of Needle.

“You’re smiling, but I don’t know why,” the blind man said, still wearing his smirk.

“How can you tell?” she challenged.

“I see better than most people.”

“Is that so? Well, you don’t know me, so why should know why I smile?”

“Ah, but I do know you, Arya Stark.” He chuckled as Arya straightened in surprise. “We need to go though. The police spotted you on the security camera of that produce market you stole apples from.”

Arya prepared to run away from the route she’d come.

“Not that way,” the man said.

He started back towards the alley she’d just come from and lithely scaled the escape ladder. Arya hesitated, unsure if she should trust him. She could simply change her face and disappear into the crowd. Continue her search.

“I can’t help you find the beach if you’re in holding downtown,” he called from the second story’s landing.

Arya could hear the boots of the police approaching in heavy clunks. They were loud, asking questions about if anyone had seen her. No different than the sloppy behavior of the kingsguard.

The man observed her from above, waiting. She had to decide now.

“They’re nearly here,” he said calmly.

Arya leapt to the first rung and pulled herself up. She climbed to the landing and hurried silently up the stairs behind him until they reached the rooftop.

“Who are you and how do you know me?” she demanded.

“This way. We need to get somewhere safer.” He nodded to his left and she followed, pulling out her compass to see they moved northwest.

As they crisscrossed rooftops at an almost leisurely pace, the man began to speak.

“My name is Matt Murdock. I’m a friend of Claire Temple, the nurse you knocked out earlier this morning.”

“So, you’re after me?” Arya froze.

“No, I want to help. Claire said you weren’t from here and seemed confused. She didn’t want the cops to find you first.” Matt stopped as well, turning towards her. His glasses were off, and she saw his stare was unfocused.

“You really are blind,” she murmured.

“Yeah.” He laughed. “I get that a lot.”

“Why do you care about me though? Why help me?”

Matt shrugged. “Call it a hunch.”

“A hunch?”

“Yeah.” He grinned with amusement, as if a humorous story ran through his mind, then started to walk again.

Arya followed him nimbly along the rooftops until they reached one that made Matt’s heartbeat steady and his body relax. He yanked open a heavy metal door and motioned Arya inside the dark vestibule on the other side. She wasn’t nervous. This obviously was his home. The door clanged shut behind him, leaving them in total darkness.

“You live in a pitch-black nest?” she joked.

“No, it’s through here. How’d you know I live here?”

“You were glad to be back,” Arya mused.

“Did I look glad?” he asked, still in the dark vestibule.

“No, you felt glad.”

“So, you can feel without touch?”

“No differently than you, I imagine. I started training when I was young.”

“Me too.” Matt unlocked the door to a stairwell that opened into his loft apartment. “Who trained you?”

Arya could tell he was testing her, but for what, she didn’t know. Best to tell the truth, especially since one of her two mentors was dead.

“A Braavosi First Sword called Syrio Forel,” she said, taking in the sparse room beneath them.

Two padded chairs, a couch, and a short table sat in the center with a small kitchen behind them. The ceilings were high, encompassing nearly two stories of space, and wooden support beams hung across the brick walls to brace them like in the halls of Winterfell.

“Mine was called Stick. I’m not really sure where he was from. He lied about nearly everything.”

“Most people do.”

Matt grinned. “You think I’m lying.”

“Not directly. Omitting and stalling. You don’t actually know who I am, only what your friend told you. You don’t even know what Braavosi means,” Arya spouted off as she descended the stairs.

She could hear Matt’s smile widen behind her.

“I remind you of someone…who?” she asked.

“Mm…not exactly.” He descended.

“Now you’re lying.”

“Guilty as charged,” he said. He stopped close to her to murmur, “You remind me of myself.”

“Only the good parts, I’ll assume.”

Matt laughed richly, the corners of his eyes creasing and his straight, white teeth now on display. Arya laughed lightly in an attempt to mask the sudden thrill she felt at the sight of him smiling so genuinely. So relaxed. Perhaps she merely envied him the ability to relax so fully. It was difficult to recount how that felt.

His lips pursed into a brief smirk and she knew whatever attempts she’d made to cover her attraction to him had failed.

“I’ll make us some breakfast. Then we can go look for your beach.” He placed his hand on her shoulder for a moment before moving to the kitchen. Arya wondered if that meant he was flirting with her. Most men were more direct. More clumsy, really.

“Do you like omelettes?”

“I’ll eat anything that’s food,” Arya replied, not quite sure what ‘omelettes’ were.

“Eggs?”

“From what animal?”

“A chicken.”

“Yes, that’s fine. Do you have any chicken meat?”

“I do. You want chicken?” Matt asked, opening a fancy white cupboard.

“That’d be great.”

He pulled something that looked like a plucked and fileted chicken breast from the cupboard.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Chicken—does it look spoiled?” He sniffed it tentatively.

“No, but…did you just kill the bird this morning?”

“What?” Matt’s brows furrowed.

Arya frowned. Clearly she was missing information.

“I bought the chicken breast at the store. We buy from people who pack our meat for us. Is that not the case where you’re from?”

“Yes, we have butchers. But…how do you store it?”

“Oh! In a fridge or a freezer. This is a refrigerator.” He motioned towards the white cupboard. “Here, come see.”

Arya went to him and he opened the refrigerator. A blast of cold air hit her, and she stepped towards it.

“How is it cold?” She touched the inside. It was like touching a stone wall in Winterfell.

“Coolant and electricity.”

“I don’t know what that means,” she admitted.

“Where are you from, Arya?” Matt’s voice was soft, but his tone was stern. Unrelenting.

“Like I told your friend, Claire, I’m from Westeros. From the northern kingdom. From Winterfell. My sister is the queen there.” Arya shut the fridge. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because Westeros and Winterfell don’t exist.”

Arya laughed.

“I’m not joking.”

“They do exist. Clearly just not to you or your friend.”

“Are you related to Tony Stark?”

“I have no idea who that is, but I am a Stark, so it is always possible.”

“You really haven’t heard of Tony Stark?”

Arya shook her head.

“You must not be from here,” he murmured.

“I’ve told you I’m not.”

“I know,” Matt said, resigned. “I just hoped you were lying. It would make things easier.”

Arya backed away from him, out of the kitchen.

“Don’t run. I don’t mean to threaten you. I only mean there’s more to solve.”

“You should hear yourself.”

“You must be starving. Just stay for breakfast. I promise I’ll take you to Red Hook. Not that you’ll find anything there.”

“What do you mean?” Arya asked, committing the name ‘Red Hook’ to memory.

“Arya, there wasn’t a storm last night. There’s not been a bad storm for months, and it’s been days since it even rained. So, your shipwreck doesn’t add up.”

“I know what I experienced. I know what happened. Just because you didn’t have a storm doesn’t mean one didn’t happen at sea. Who knows how long I was unconscious! We can’t say anything for certain.”

“Arya—”

“No! You aren’t going to help me, and that’s fine. I didn’t even ask for you help. I can find my own way. I always have.”

She ran up the stairs.

“Arya, you need to eat more than apples!” Matt called from the kitchen.

The door slammed behind her as she emerged to the rooftop. She quickly scampered across the roofline to the next building, assuming Matt would follow her. What did he even want with her anyway? She wasn’t about to wait around to find out. All she needed was to get to Red Hook.

Remembering her face was known to the authorities, she accessed the stores of the House of Black and White and pulled the gift from one of the many faces. When she looked up again at the rooftops of New York City, she wore the face of a man from Mareen.

* * *

“You look like shit. Late night?” Foggy asked as Matt walked in the door of their law firm’s cozy office in Hell’s Kitchen.

“Early morning,” Matt replied. “And, no, I didn’t forget about our deposition at ten.”

“Good, because I’m definitely going to need you for it.”

“Where’s Karen?”

“I’m here!” Karen puffed from the hallway, emerging a few seconds later in a rush of her normal scent of laundry detergent, cotton blouse, and sweat.

“I need you to investigate someone for me.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Karen said, dropping her bag on her desk.

“Yes, good morning, sorry. Claire woke me up early and I’ve been tracking someone ever since.”

“Tracking? Are you…?” she trailed off. Leaving the obvious question of if he was out being Daredevil again unspoken.

“No.”

Matt could tell Foggy and Karen were exchanging looks of doubt and concern, which he chose to ignore.

“I found her, the girl Claire wanted me to track, but she left to go to Red Hook. She’s…” he trailed off, recounting the morning in his head with some amusement.

“She’s what?” Foggy asked after enough silent seconds had passed.

“Special.” Matt gave a small smile. “She’s special.”

“Special how? Like romantically special?” Foggy pressed and Karen perked up with interest.

Matt chuckled. He didn’t have an answer for that. Arya clearly had been attracted to him at one point in the morning, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“No, special as in different. She’s not from around here, but I’m not really sure where she’s from. That’s what I want you to look into. Have either of you heard of Westeros or Winterfell?”

“Sounds like something out of a video game,” Foggy said.

“Not ringing any bells,” Karen said. “But I’ll look into them both. And the girl, you want me to look into her?”

“Her name is Arya Stark. I’d like to find anything we can on that name.”

“Stark is pretty common as far as surnames go,” Karen warned.

“I know. Whatever you can find.”

“Okay. But can I ask, why are we looking into this? Is this a case?” Karen asked.

“Not exactly.”

“So, no,” Foggy said, rolling his eyes. “Should we be worried?”

“I don’t think so, but I can’t tell. She’s had training. Claire thought she might be one of Stick’s, but she’s definitely not. It’s oddly similar though. Her senses are acute.” Matt took a deep breath, recounting how she’d sensed so much about him.

“Wow, okay, you’re super into this chick. Seriously, dude, this isn’t another Elektra situation is it? Because I really can’t be your friend through something like that again,” Foggy said.

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

“You’re sure?” Karen asked, her voice full of concern. “Because you can tell us. We’ve been through enough. You can tell us anything.”

“I know. And I promise, she’s nothing like Elektra. This is nothing to do with any of that.” Matt smiled reassuringly at his friends, but he wasn’t actually sure that Arya wasn’t dangerous. He just _felt_ that she wasn’t, even if she had a cloud of darkness around her. She wasn’t like Elektra though. He was certain of that.

Elektra was far in his past, as all of what happened at Midland Circle was nearly seven years ago for him. Karen and Foggy had been blipped though, so it was fresher for them. Nelson, Murdock and Page had only been officially opened four months before half the population crumbled to dust around him.

“Okay, I believe you,” Karen said.

“Me too,” Foggy added.

“Good.”

Matt’s phone started to ring out, _Claire! Claire! Claire!_

He gave the others an apologetic look before answering.

“Any luck?” Claire asked after he said hello.

He closed the door to his office behind him. “Yeah, I found her. I tried to make friends with her, but she ditched me after I brought up Tony Stark.”

“You think she’s related to him?”

“I don’t. She had no idea who he was.” Matt fingered the Braille of some papers on his desk, trying to find what he needed for the deposition.

“So, why would she ditch you?”

“She felt threatened. It’s fine,” he said, abandoning the papers to walk to the corner farthest from the others in the office. While he wasn’t keeping secrets from Karen and Foggy anymore, being secretive was a hard habit for him to break. “I dropped Red Hook into the conversation, so she’ll go there. I’ll look for her after my deposition today, or she’ll just come back to my place once her search yields nothing.”

“She’ll come back to your place?” Claire’s voice held quite of bit of displeasure.

“I had to get us off the street. Listen, you asked for my help, and I helped. She’s fine. She’ll be fine. She’s a warrior.”

“She told you she’s a warrior?”

“No, Claire, she didn’t use that precise word. She’s not Danny Rand telling everyone she meets how she’s the Immortal Braavosi Fist.” He said it to make Claire laugh. People who’d been blipped liked references to things from before the blip. In reality, he and Danny had become fairly close as two of the only people they knew not blipped. It had been a long five years.

“Braavosi Fist, what? What’s Braavosi?” Claire asked, not getting the joke.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said quickly, noting that he needed to add ‘Braavos’ to the list for Karen to investigate.

“All right, well, if you think she’s fine, then that’s good enough for me. I need to sleep. I was pulling an all-nighter and Luke’s finally gone for the day.”

“You didn’t tell Luke?”

“I didn’t want to tell him if it was nothing. Is it nothing?”

“I don’t know yet.” Matt started to pace his office.

“Do you think she’s one of Stick’s?”

“No, she’s not. She’s…different. But it’s not a bad different. We just need to get to know her more.” As he spoke, Arya’s impression lingered like an afterimage and he found himself smiling.

“How do you know it’s not a bad different?”

“Call it a hunch.”

Claire groaned.

“Get some sleep. I’m on it, don’t worry.”

“Okay, thanks. Night,” Claire muttered then hung up.

Matt asked his phone for the time, which was 9:17, and hurriedly gathered his stuff for their deposition.


	3. Chapter 3

The world was strange, its ground hard, like the distant memory of the stone of Winterfell’s floors, but nothing smelled familiar. Nothing at all was familiar. Still, she pressed on, a shadow calling her. She waited instinctually for a door to open, then went up the steps turning into the hallway to track the shadow. Its form was that of a bird, larger than a crow, perhaps that of a hawk. It had no scent, no blood. It was not prey; it was only a shadow. She followed it to a wooden door that was easily opened with her snout. A bare-chested man sat in the corner of the room the door opened into. His attention was elsewhere, focused and distant.

She padded into the space but hesitated as the shadow hawk flew towards the man. It fluttered into his body and he breathed in deeply, his body straightening and tensing. His heartbeat raced. Normally she fled from men unless provoked, but something inside her convinced her to continue deeper into the room. She circled around the man until she could see his face and he could see hers. She did not know him.

“Who are you?” he asked, his vivid blue eyes wrought with curiosity and concern.

She pierced his inquisitive look with her own dark golden eyes. Somehow, she understood his manspeak. It was as if the barriers between their two species were gone. Perhaps the hawk spoke through him and she could understand her fellow beast.

“Who are you?” he repeated. “Why do you appear to me now?”

“I am no one,” she replied in a huff.

The man frowned and she noticed the distinct sable marking of a dragon across his chest. It could only spell out trouble for her. Dragons and their associates weren’t to be trusted.

“You must be someone to approach me this way,” he said. His demeanor did not change from its mild state. He did not see her as a threat.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I am an Immortal Iron Fist.”

His words rang true, though she couldn’t say why.

She alerted to attention and barked out the command, “Follow me.”

“Where are we going?” he asked as he stood.

“Follow me,” she repeated.

He followed her as she hurried out the door and down the steps. The man became the hawk and he soared above her as she ran across the city of metal and glass until she reached her destination. She nodded to the apartment several stories up, and he flew to the multi-colored window to inspect it.

“Why would you lead me here?” he asked with alarm.

She did not understand where they were, so she had no answer for him. Nothing around her was familiar. She did not know why she’d led him here or how she knew this to be her destination. It simply had been known.

Suddenly, a mist formed.

“Why have you brought me here? Why do you cloud my sight?” he demanded.

She whimpered, looking around as the thick fog set in. There was nothing to say to him. She had no answers. She could not say what led her to this particular place, nor why the mist clouded them now.

“The pathway is open, and the Doom is coming,” a whisper came through the mist.

“What?” he asked.

Her ears twitched. She could not see through the fog. She could not even see the hawk. She could only hear.

“The pathway is open. The Doom arrives.”

The words belonged to the mist itself. The hawk continued to question it, but she knew there would be no other response.

/\/\/\

Danny Rand gasped for air.

“Are you all right?!” Colleen Wing cried. His friend crouched before him in the meditation space of the corner of their apartment in Chinatown.

She’d established that space after he’d left for Asia in search of answers and she’d needed to harness her chi as the Immortal Iron Fist. Now that Danny returned, having repossessed his lost power of the heart of Shou-Lao through means he swore he couldn’t remember, it served as a space for both of them.

The five years of the Blip were long and challenging, and Matt Murdock, the only other local vigilante left alive during it, had his own issues to deal with. Meditation had become more than a necessity during that time and they both continued the battle to wean themselves off of it.

“I’m fine. It’s fine. I had…I had a vision,” Danny said. Visions were something he’d started to have during the Blip when he entered a deep enough meditative state. His session today, though, wasn’t meant to be a deep meditation.

“What did you see?” Colleen asked, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.

“Matt Murdock is in danger.”

“What?” Colleen frowned.

Danny stood.

“There’s a wolf in his home. I saw it.”

“A wolf?”

“Yes, a massive grey wolf with golden eyes. It led me there. And then there was a voice in the mist.”

“A voice?” Colleen asked. “What did it say?”

“It said that the pathway is open, and the Doom arrives.” Danny met her eyes as he said it.

“The Doom?” she asked, brows furrowed.

“I don’t know. But if a pathway is open…”

“You think it’s K’un-Lun?”

“What else could it be?"

“I don’t know.” Colleen was thoughtful a moment. “You said K’un-Lun is one of seven cities of heaven, right?”

“Yes, the Seven Capital Cities of Heaven,” Danny replied.

“What if another city’s pathway has opened?”

Danny frowned, very uneasy with this idea.

“None of the other cities are good.”

“Was K’un-Lun actually good? Think about everything they put you through,” Colleen said cautiously.

“No, you’re right.” Danny sighed. “They weren’t good to me. Not really. That Davos could be a product of their teachings, and The Hand could come out of that place… Perhaps they were not ever good at all.”

“But Matt’s in danger?” Colleen pressed.

“Yeah,” Danny said, focusing in on her. “I need to go check on him.”

“It’s not even five. He’s probably at work. You should call him,” Colleen reasoned.

“No. Colleen, this vision… I need to be there. Something is wrong.” Danny said shaking his head vehemently. His expression hardened into something she knew better than to argue with.

Colleen nodded with a sigh and turned to grab her Katana. “I’m coming with you then.”

* * *

“Loras!” Arya cried out as she bolted upright.

Her left hand closed around the handle of her Valyrian steel dagger until she calmed enough to realize she’d been dreaming of Nymeria. How that was possible here, she didn’t know. The dream itself strayed from her prior ones. Something more mystical to it than usual. But the man in it had looked exactly like Loras Tyrell. Only, Loras was dead.

She blinked furiously, dazed and perplexed by the dream and unfamiliarity of her surroundings. Finally, she remembered she was in Matt Murdock’s home and relaxed backwards on the couch.

She’d gone to Red Hook that morning after leaving Matt’s and found nothing but docks and metal and the tiniest of beaches. More a patch of dirt than a beach, really. Nothing had been there, like Matt had said would be the case. After eating the other two apples and screaming into the sea, she retraced her steps to his apartment, deciding he was at least trustworthy enough to use for shelter and a meal.

It pieced together in her mind that she’d meant to eat something once she arrived but had been too exhausted to make it beyond the couch. It had been light outside then, and now the sun had set. Bright lights blinked and flashed outside the windows distractingly and she groaned as she pushed herself to her feet. She needed to eat.

She opened the white cupboard—the refrigerator—to find the chicken.

Once she found it though, it wasn’t exactly clear where to cook it. There was no fireplace. There were some grates on top of what appeared to be an oven. She marveled that as strange as everything here was, they still had ovens.

The grates were not high enough for a fire to be built beneath them and she determined there must be some other method to create fire here. Black knobs featured on the front of the oven. Their surfaces were covered with raised dots as Arya fingered them. She turned one and heard a clicking noise until she turned it all the way to the right. Once she did that, a blue flame ignited beneath the black grate.

“Oh!” Arya gasped in excitement.

She grabbed the piece of chicken and placed it carefully on top of the grate, just above the flame.

Not even a minute later, there was a knock at the door. Only it wasn’t the door she’d come through, it was somewhere else in the apartment. Somewhere closer to the kitchen.

She left the chicken cooking to go find the source of the knocking. It became obvious once she was back in the seating area. A small corridor led to a door and little else. This had to be Matt’s front door, whereas rooftop entry wasn’t standard use. It made sense, especially for someone like her sister, Sansa, who wouldn’t be caught dead on a rooftop like that.

She opened the door and her stomach leapt into her throat. It was the man from her Nymeria dream.

“Loras?” she blurted out, unable to stop herself. He looked exactly like the Tyrell heir.

“Sorry?” the blond man frowned.

“No, sorry, hello, how can I help you?” Arya recovered.

“Where’s Matt?” he asked.

“Oh, he’s not here. He said I was welcome anytime. So…here I am.” Arya realized how thin her reasoning to be there was, but it was better than the whole story. No one seemed to believe that.

“Oh? You’re a friend?”

“Yeah…I mean, he’s more just helping me out.” Arya said, looking him in the eye.

The man stood there dumbly. It seemed like he wanted to come in, but also felt that perhaps he shouldn’t.

“Who are you?” Arya asked.

“I’m Danny Rand, a friend of Matt’s,” he replied.

“Well, he’s not here. Did you want me to tell him you stopped by?” Arya asked, sensing that this Loras Tyrell lookalike did not plan to leave.

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to just wait for him to get back. I need to talk to him about something urgent.”

Arya heard the rooftop door open.

“Are you here alone?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, I’m alone,” Danny replied loudly. A clear lie.

Arya gripped her dagger’s hilt.

“I think it’d be better for you to come back later when Matt’s home,” she said calmly.

“I disagree.”

Danny shoved into the apartment with a sudden force that Arya didn’t anticipate soon enough to be able to stop him. He was fast, faster than her, and in the living room by the time she wielded the dagger. Clearly, he too had some form of combat training.

As she rounded the wall into the open space, she saw a woman had joined Danny. Presumably the person she’d heard enter from the roof. She looked like she came from Volantis or Dorne. Most notable to Arya, however, was the sword sheathed on her back.

“What do you want?” Arya said harshly, assuming a fighting stance.

The woman pulled her sword. It was unlike most she’d seen. Only in Essos did you find that shape of blade. Needle lay neatly sheathed on the floor beside the couch—exactly between herself and this woman.

“We’re here to protect Matt,” the woman said. Her accent was not that of Dorne or Volantis. In fact, she sounded like everyone else here in New York City.

Arya gave her and the man, Danny Rand, a reproachful once over.

“You don’t look like you’re here to protect Matt. You look like you’re here for me.”

The pair shared a glance and Arya took advantage of their momentary distraction to take a step closer to Needle.

“That depends,” Danny said. “Who are you?”

“Arya Stark of Winterfell.”

“What is the Doom?” Danny asked.

Arya stiffened. Hadn’t that only been a dream? But why would he use such a precise word, unless it had been more than a dream?

“He asked you a question,” the woman snapped.

“You’re the Iron Fist. The shadow hawk,” Arya said confidently to Danny. The resulting expression on his face assured her these had been the wrong words to say.

It happened quickly, the two of them attacking her, but she managed to duck and roll between them directly to Needle. As she went to unsheathe her sword, Danny’s foot landed on her hard. A pained grunt escaped her as she scrambled away from him towards the window. She spun to face them, her back towards the wall, Needle in her left hand and the dagger in her right.

The woman came for her first and Arya met her blade with the hardened steel of Needle in a loud clank. The woman remained focused, but Arya could sense her surprise at her strength and Needle’s durability. Arya countered her attack, moving them away from the window. The woman was skilled, avoiding the chairs behind her with ease as she dodged and blocked Arya’s attacks.

Danny came in then with a fury of fists, and Arya had to go on the defensive to dodge him and maintain her position against the woman. All the while she was hoping to get to the stairwell so she could flee. The other option appeared to be to kill these two people, and honestly that didn’t seem like the right thing to do. Not when he had clearly experienced her dream as well. Something was binding them.

As she inched closer to the stairs, the woman seemed to catch on to her escape plan and moved to block her path.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I don’t want to kill you,” Arya said.

“Don’t worry, you won’t.”

Arya grinned at the challenge. Adrenaline surged through her enough that she overpowered the woman, sending her sword crashing to the ground. The woman ducked away to recover it while Danny came for Arya.

She expected him to go high again, as he’d been doing, but he went low, swiping her legs from underneath. Arya dropped Needle to catch her fall. Before she could regain possession of it, the woman had recovered, and the blade of her sword was against Arya’s throat.

“What is the Doom?” she asked Arya.

Hers and Danny’s faces were cold as they stared down at her. Maybe she would have to kill them after all.

She heard footsteps approaching from the hallway. Someone else was coming. Someone who knew how to move quietly. It had to be Matt Murdock.

“Answer the question,” Danny said to her, apparently not hearing the footsteps.

“I don’t know!” Arya yelled and, in a burst of energy, thrust her dagger upwards through the woman’s blade. It sliced the steel in half, the part against her throat cut into her lightly from the force then fell to her chest. As the cut began to sting, the woman cried out, “How?!”

The footsteps quickened to a run.

An orange glow hovered in Arya’s face. It was coming from Danny’s fist.

“Danny, no!” Matt shouted.

Arya raised her dagger in time to block the incoming punch. Danny howled in pain and blood poured from his hand onto her chest.

A second later it stopped. The orange light disappeared back into him, and there wasn’t even a mark where the Valyrian steel had sliced into him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Matt demanded.

“She’s dangerous!” Danny said wildly. His eyes were fixed on Arya’s dagger.

“She’s with me. Why are you two even here?” Matt asked.

“I had a vision,” Danny said with earnest.

Arya scrambled to her feet, the severed half of the woman’s sword clattering on the floor as it fell off her. The woman bent to grab it, a white light emerging from her hand and flowing into the metal. She put it against the sword’s hilted half and Arya marveled as the blades fused together, as if they had never been separated. No one else seemed to find this remotely interesting, so she assumed they all knew about the magic.

“Hang on.” Matt sniffed the air. “Is something burning?”

“Oh shit! The chicken,” Arya said, looking to see it was on fire.

Matt hurried to the kitchen and turned off the burner.

“What did you do?” he asked her with a laugh.

“I was cooking it on the fire grate.”

Matt shook his head, laughing as richly as he had that morning.

“What?” Arya asked.

“No, nothing,” Matt said.

Using tongs, he chucked the charred chicken into a bin on his way back to the living room.

“Sorry about the mess,” Danny said, looking at the drops of his blood on the floor. Most of the blood had ended up on Arya.

“Yeah, sorry, but we thought you were in danger. We still do,” the woman said, moving closer to Matt.

“I had a vision,” Danny said again.

“Yeah, you said. You could’ve just called me.”

“That’s what Colleen said. But, Matt, the vision showed a wolf in your house. She’s the wolf.” Danny pointed at Arya.

“Is that what you saw as the hawk?” Arya asked.

“What do you mean?” Danny asked.

“In your vision, there was a wolf approaching you in a room and then you became a hawk made of shadow, right?” Arya asked.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I had the same vision except as the wolf. Which you would’ve known if you had just asked me instead of attacking me.”

“I thought my friend was in danger,” Danny said tightly.

“He wasn’t even here!” Arya protested.

“Okay, let’s just all cool down. We should’ve called, Matt, and we’re sorry,” the woman said, then looked at Arya. “And we shouldn’t have attacked you like that, sorry. It’s just, you knew Danny was an Iron Fist. Usually that means you’ve been sent for the Iron Fist. I’m Colleen, by the way.”

“Well, I wasn’t sent for anything or by anyone. I was shipwrecked here after sailing for months.”

“Wait, you were in a shipwreck? Was it somehow abnormal, like magic was involved?” Danny asked. Matt and Colleen perked up.

“Yes, it was abnormal. There was a massive whirlpool amidst a terrible storm. The compass wouldn’t even work, just kept spinning in circles. But it’s working just fine now. I’m the only thing from the shipwreck that seemed to survive, including the ship,” Arya said. Matt gave her a sad smile.

Danny nodded excitedly. “I think you were right, Colleen. I think she’s from another dimension.”

“What?” Matt asked.

“I’m from Westeros.”

“Is that one of the cities?” Colleen asked Danny.

“No,” he said with a frown. “Though there’s a legend of an eighth capital. Its name is unknown.”

“I’m sorry, what are you two talking about?” Matt interrupted.

“The Seven Capital Cities of Heaven. K’un-Lun is one of them,” Danny said.

“You think Arya came from Heaven?” Matt asked dryly.

Danny and Colleen looked at Arya who shrugged.

“Well, she’s not from Earth,” Danny said.

“I don’t even know what Earth is,” Arya said.

“It’s the planet we’re on,” Danny explained.

“I don’t know what that means—planet.”

“So, you’re not an alien?” Matt said. There was obvious sarcasm in his tone, but Arya didn’t know what the word ‘alien’ meant.

“I think we already knew that,” Colleen said, her voice sarcastic as well.

“You never know these days,” Matt said.

They all agreed with this, so Arya smiled and nodded along.

“So, you actually believe me that I’m from Westeros? Because Matt didn’t,” Arya asked.

“Yeah, of course. Why would you lie about that?” Danny said simply. “I grew up in another dimension, in K’un-Lun. My plane crashed and I woke up there.”

“You think the shipwreck caused me to travel here?” Arya asked, not knowing what a plane was but deciding it wasn’t important.

“Our vision said that the pathway is open. I think that your shipwreck must have caused the pathway between your world and this one to open,” Danny explained.

“And the Doom is coming,” Arya murmured, sinking onto Matt’s couch. Maybe that was what had destroyed her ship and crew.

“The Doom?” Matt asked.

“It was in our vision. We don’t know what it means,” Danny explained as he sat beside Arya.

“The only Doom I know is from the stories of Old Valyria,” Arya said.

“Tell me the stories,” Danny said, placing a hand on the back of hers. She could hear Matt’s and Colleen’s heartbeats increase tempo when he touched her, though there was no change in Danny.

Matt cleared his throat. “You’re getting blood on my couch.”

Arya bit back a laugh and noticed Colleen do the same. Danny jumped up, apologetic.

Arya stood slowly, turning to Matt. “I probably need to wash entirely.”

“You can use my shower. It’s just through here,” Matt said, starting towards the bedroom. He paused to look at Danny and Colleen. “We can pick this up another time.”

“Yeah, we should be going now that we know you’re okay. We can talk more later,” Colleen said.

“But what about the Doom? We need to figure this out,” Danny protested.

“Danny, come on.” Colleen nodded towards the door. “Sorry again, Arya.”

Arya forced a smile, the shallow cut from her sword still stinging on her neck.

“Let’s talk tomorrow,” Danny said to her and she nodded.

Matt went to lock the door after they left.

“He isn’t interested in me, in case that’s why you kicked them out,” Arya said once he returned to where she stood in the living room.

“I heard his heartbeat,” Matt said.

“You sure it wasn’t yours?” Arya prodded playfully, then started towards the bedroom. “Show me the shower. I think my neck is still bleeding.”

“Colleen’s Katana can cut through basically anything. Though your dagger… what’s that made of?”

“Valyrian Steel. It’s the sharpest steel in the world, well, in my world. And it must have some magical properties, as it killed the White Walkers.”

“The what?”

“White Walkers. It’s a long story.”

“You can tell me over dinner,” he said as they entered a small, tiled room off the bedroom.

“Oh, are you making me dinner now?”

“No, we’ll have to go out. You ruined my last piece of chicken. There’s a tavern a block over called Shipwright’s I think you’ll like. It’s got a bunch old sailing stuff in it. Don’t worry, they serve roasted chicken.”

“Good.” Arya smiled.

Matt pulled back a curtain to reveal silver knobs and piping that led to faucet head above a bathtub.

“Okay, you turn this middle one to start the water then adjust with the knobs. Left is the hot water; right is the cold. Got it?”

Arya stared at the shower. “You mean the water just comes out hot when you turn the left knob?”

“Yes, there’s a water heater.” Matt turned the middle knob to demonstrate and water flowed from the faucet above.

“This is fascinating.”

“Well, glad to amuse you. Let me know if you need anything else. Extra towels are in the cabinet and soap and shampoo is in the shower. I’ll bring you a change of clothes, though I don’t think I have anything that will fit you very well.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, if you’re still bleeding afterwards, just let me know. I have bandages.” He walked out of the bathroom.

“Matt?” Arya called.

“Yeah?” He turned.

“They attacked me once I mentioned Danny was the Iron Fist. Why would that trigger them?”

Matt sighed.

“Everyone you’ve met—even me—is first inclined to think you’re in an organization called The Hand because of how well you’re trained. They’re the enemy of the Immortal Iron Fist. We all fought them some years back. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you over dinner.”

Arya nodded and started to close the door.

“Oh, and Arya?” Matt said softly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about your crew and your ship. I was hoping you’d find something in Red Hook.”

Arya took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks.”


	4. Chapter 4

The blaring ring of her cell phone jolted Jessica Jones awake. She glanced at the clock; it was half past six. Barely evening, though the sun had already set. It had been up last time she looked. She’d fallen asleep at her desk—again.

Finally, she answered the phone, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

“What?”

“Hey, Jessica, it’s Danny, Danny Rand.”

Jessica rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know any Dannys. I do know a couple of Immortal Iron Fists, though, if that’s who you mean.”

She unscrewed the bottle of whisky on her desk as Danny replied, “Ha, ha, very funny.”

“I’m here all week.” She took a swig from the bottle. “What do you want?”

She hadn’t talked to Danny in a bit. He’d hired her for a couple of jobs after the Blip, but she’d only actually seen him right after it happened, when he’d gone around checking in with everyone. That was when she learned Colleen Wing was now also an Iron Fist and that their cop friend, Misty Knight—who definitely hated her—now sometimes teamed up with Colleen. They called themselves the Daughters of the Dragon or some shit.

The Blip had kept the dragon kids busy, it seemed. Jessica was more than glad she’d been dusted for it. She couldn’t imagine how boring New York would be with fifty percent less people. It was tedious to even think about.

“I have a job for you, actually,” Danny said, unperturbed by her usual caustic tone. His persistently upbeat nature reminded her a lot of a puppy.

“No,” she said.

“Oh, come on, you don’t even know what it is yet,” Danny whined.

“It’s coming from you. That’s all I need to know.” She drank more. They always played this game when he called with a job. She didn’t mind. Routine was nice.

“Fine, well, I guess you don’t want to know what I’m offering to pay.”

Jessica looked around her office apartment. The ceiling was peeling, there was a hole in one of the walls from the time she accidently leaned too hard on it, and she’d never put that drywall up for the interior wall reconstruction between her office and kitchen. She definitely could use the money and Danny always overpaid. It was out of pity, she was certain, but he was the one person both rich enough and genuinely kind enough for her not to care.

“You have two minutes,” she said.

“Great! So, I had this vision and it led us to Matt Murdock’s place where we met this woman who is from another dimension.”

“An alien?” she asked, knowing it wasn’t anything that normal. It never was with Danny.

“No. No, she’s like me… Like how I lived in K’un-Lun.”

Jessica opened her laptop. “K’un-Lun’s your mystical land where The Hand assholes are from?”

“Right, exactly.”

“Just checking. So, did you have a point and I missed it?”

“No, I mean, yes. I mean, I do have a point, but I haven’t made it yet.”

Jessica contemplated stabbing her eyes out with a pencil. “You’re down to twenty-one seconds.”

“She mentioned something that I want you to research. We were talking about my vision—which she had too—and there was a voice in it that said the Doom arrives. Arya said that the only Doom she knows about is from Old Valyria.”

“Old Valyria?” Jessica asked, typing it into her internet search browser.

“Yeah. I’ve never heard of it—and I know of most things from K’un-Lun after we were able to get back during the Blip and access their library. But when we got back from Matt’s, I tried to look up the legend of the eighth capital city of Heaven, and…”

Jessica tuned him out. ‘Old Valyria’ had popped up several results, including a club in Harlem named Valyria that opened five months ago.

“Great,” she finally said, interrupting Danny. “I’ll look into it. Did you try searching for it online already?”

“No, it’s an ancient mystical city. It won’t be online.”

“Okay, well, I found a club called Valyria in Harlem while you were rambling on about the library that didn’t contain any mention of the place. Perhaps the people who named their club for an ancient city from another dimension can shed some light?”

“Wow! Really? I bet Luke’s heard of it! And maybe Misty or Claire. We’ll call them, thanks!”

“I expect payment tomorrow!”

“I’ll send the first installment tonight. But don’t think we’re done with the case, Jessica.”

Jessica sighed loudly for effect and hung up. She immediately dialed Luke Cage.

“Jess, hey, how are you? Everything all right?” he answered.

“Yeah, just warning you the dragon twins are calling you and Claire about some club in Harlem. It’s related to some weird mystical shit from what I gathered.”

“What club?”

“Valyria, you heard of it?” Jessica asked, clicking on their website’s About page.

“Yeah, it’s the hot place right now. Not competition for Harlem’s Paradise though. More of a younger crowd. I’d probably stick out there.”

“Because you typically blend in?”

Luke laughed and Jessica took another swig of whisky.

“Should I be keeping an eye out for anything in particular? What’d Danny say about it?”

“It was more to do with the name than the club itself. I guess there’s some girl from another dimension—Arya, that’s what he called her—she mentioned that name. Something about a vision. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it. She’s staying with Matt, I think.”

“Murdock?”

“The devil himself.”

“Hm, well I’ll ask around about it, see if there’s more to it than just the next hot thing. Let me know what else you find.”

“Who said I’m looking into it any further?”

“Right, okay, you play that game and I’ll pretend a 6’3” bulletproof black man blends in anywhere.”

“Don’t forget internet famous,” Jessica quipped.

“Never could,” Luke said dryly. “Let me know what type of trouble I’m dealing with.”

“Bye, Luke.”

“See you, Jess. Oh, and thanks for the warning. Danny’s calling me now.”

“You enjoy!”

Luke didn’t say anything, but she could feel his eyeroll through the phone.

Once they hung up, she dug deeper into the club’s website.

_Valyria is your premium nightclub destination in Harlem. An exclusive destination for those who dare to sail beyond the edge of the world and fly higher than the sky. Leave behind your inhibitions every Thursday through Saturday in our three-story experience. The lure of Valyria’s wonders and riches abound within these magical castle walls._

Jessica snorted at the idea of a castle in Harlem. The only castle in the city was Belvedere Castle in Central Park, and that was little more than a single turret.

The About section went on to briefly profile the club owners. Their photos showed two white women, one blonde and pretty enough, the other with silver hair that was trendy with people under twenty-five for some reason. The silver-haired woman had purple eyes. With the hair and colored contacts, she looked entirely fake. They both looked wholly out of place for Harlem.

“Gentrification bullshit,” Jessica muttered.

She took another swig of whisky and began her deep dives on the club owners. Their names were listed as Elissa Farman and Rhaena Targaryen.

* * *

“You’re Mr. Popular tonight. Two calls in a row?” Claire teased, putting down her book after Luke hung up with Danny.

He started to pace their Harlem apartment.

“Yeah, seems Murdock’s taken on another foreign chick. Danny’s having visions about her as a wolf.” Luke shook his head.

“A wolf?”

“Yeah, some meditative state where he was a hawk or something. You know how weird he is.”

“That I do.”

“Apparently this girl had the same vision as him though, so he’s pretty sure it’s a sign that this is real.”

“That what’s real? The wolf?” Claire sat up from her spot on the couch.

“No… the Doom. I guess there’s a legend in Arya’s world about a city that was destroyed by the Doom. The city’s called Old Valyria.”

“Isn’t that the name of the new club? The one that looks like a castle?” Claire asked.

“It’s just called Valyria. I think I’m gonna have to check it out, see if anything’s weird. They’re technically my competition. Probably should’ve gone months ago to introduce myself.”

“Hold up. Did you say Matt’s taken on someone? Arya?”

“Yeah, Arya Stark. Why?” Luke frowned.

“Well, I didn’t think it’d matter, but… I treated someone by that name this morning. And I called Matt for help, but not to take her in like this. I think she might be dangerous. He said she’s not one of Stick’s or in The Hand, but…”

“You knew about all this?”

“What? No!” Claire held up her hands in innocence. “Just about the patient. She ran off this morning. It was all over the APBs. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it during your monitoring.”

“I don’t sit by the police radio all day. Besides, you say that like it’s a bad thing. I’m trying to protect Harlem and knowing what the cops are up to helps. You can’t deny that,” Luke said angrily. “But don’t change the subject. You lied to me.”

“I did not lie to you!”

“Lie by omission is still a lie.” He raised his eyebrows pointedly.

“Fine, okay, fine. You’re right. How’s that? Happy?” Claire snapped.

“Say it again.”

Claire stared at him in disbelief for a long moment.

“Just two words,” Luke said.

“You’re right,” Claire grumbled.

Luke grinned. “Okay, now I’m happy.”

“God, you’re impossible. I don’t know why I took you back.”

“Because you love me?” Luke smiled as he leaned down playfully close to her.

Claire pursed her lips into a smirk and grabbed a fistful of his shirt’s fabric to yank him towards her for a kiss. Luke melted into it, letting the calm of the moment take over. Centering his chi, as Danny would say. He slid beside Claire on the couch as their kiss picked up some steam. Their hands and tongues explored each other until the heat eventually died down. They both gave a content sigh, foreheads pressed together.

After a few moments, Luke pulled away to ask, “So, you know this Arya chick? What’s she like? Danny seems convinced she’s from another dimension.”

“Well, that actually would make a lot of sense,” Claire said thoughtfully.

“Why do you say that?”

“She was totally weird. Like psych ward stuff. Didn’t seem to know about the existence of electricity. She was certain she’d been captaining a ship that had wrecked in a terrible storm. Of course, there wasn’t any storm last night.” Claire crossed her arms, a habit she did while thinking. “If she’s from another dimension though, then the storm could’ve been there.”

“So, you buy it? You’re just gonna take that she’s from another dimension at face value?”

“Danny lived in another dimension for over a decade. I don’t see why you wouldn’t take this at face value.”

Luke sighed. Danny’s whole story was just weird. Mystical city, defeating a dragon, crazy ninjas calling themselves The Hand. It wasn’t something he could just wrap his head around, even after the Blip proved that weird magic shit happens right here in Harlem.

“You know, it’s the dragon. I just can’t get past the dragon,” Luke said.

Claire laughed. “Honestly, me either. Like, I totally believe in the power they have and all the crap with Davos, but that dragon molten heart bit…I don’t know. It’s just too far, I guess?”

“Yeah, exactly.” They shared a laugh and Luke pulled out his phone. “Okay, I need to reach out to some people about this.”

“Go. Do your thing.” Claire waved him on and picked her book back up.

Luke walked to the window to send his texts, looking down at the street first. Nothing was happening. Crime was at an all-time low. He’d like to think it was all his doing, having taken over Harlem’s Paradise and refortified the wall of peace around Harlem. But just as he was letting the power go to his head, the Blip had happened, and most things fell apart. When he was returned from dust and understood that five years had passed, he and Claire got back in touch and their old fight seemed like a distant memory. Something they could easily move past.

Working together, they’d finally put Harlem’s broken pieces back together. At least that’s what he’d thought. Now, it seemed, the Doom was coming—whatever that even meant.

He messaged Sugar first, ‘ _You heard anything about that newer club up on 130 th, the castle one?’_

Next, he wrote to DW, who had finally eased up once he saw Luke back with Claire and his ownership of Harlem’s Paradise not turning into a reign. ‘ _You been to that new club yet, the castle one?’_

DW replied right away. ‘ _Nah, no one goes there. Bridge and tunnel crowd.’_

_‘Bridge and tunnel come to Harlem?’_ Luke replied.

_‘Man, where you been? Whole damn neighborhood is overrun with gentrification.’_

Luke sighed. He wasn’t unaware of how white Harlem was becoming, especially South Harlem, but he didn’t feel it was necessarily overrun. Sure, there were some yuppy hipster bars with craft whiskey at night and avocado toast brunches in the morning, but it wasn’t threatening to become Williamsburg or anything.

_‘Well, if you hear anything about it, let me know,’_ he replied.

_‘Why, you scoping the competition?’_ DW replied.

_‘Something like that.’_

Sugar replied right after he sent that text to DW.

_‘Not much,_ Sugar wrote. _Younger crowd…bridge and tunnel. But I’ve done quite a few pickups from there to take them to the 125 Metro North station and more than once a drunk group has asked each other where their friend was. Seems like a lot of groups have a friend go MIA during their night. Probably just drunk idiots.’_

Luke frowned.

_‘So, people are going missing?’_ He replied.

_‘Missing to their friends anyway. I’m sure they turn up with a stranger & hangover the next day ;)’_

_‘Let’s hope,’_ Luke replied.

He put his phone back in his pocket and returned to the living room.

“I’m gonna have to go check out this club tonight,” he told Claire.

“Tonight?”

“Yeah. Sugar says there might be missing persons.”

“Missing persons?” Claire raised her brows.

“Maybe just drunk hookups. But…I need to go check it out to be sure.”

“Okay. Wow, that’s kind of crazy. Well, I have to work, or else I’d go with you.”

“No, no, it’s better you don’t come. I mean, no offense, but I just think me going as a fellow club owner makes more sense.”

“Sure, whatever,” Claire replied with an eyeroll.

“It’s a bridge and tunnel crowd anyway.”

“Gross.” Claire wrinkled her nose.

Luke grinned and slid beside her on the couch, picking up his book from the side table—a biography on Muhammed Ali.

“We can hang out reading in the meantime. Bridge and tunnel won’t arrive until nine.”

Claire chuckled and picked her book back up. The two read until Claire got up to do a short walk before having to leave for her shift. Luke knew better than to join her on these pre-shift walks by now. He started sifting through his wardrobe for an appropriate choice to wear to Valyria that night, finally settling on a grey suit and purple vest.


End file.
